


Freak Like Me (Circus!Klaine)

by hermioneclone



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Circus!Klaine, Klaine, Klaine AU Fridays, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermioneclone/pseuds/hermioneclone
Summary: Marked as an outcast and forced to perform in a circus, Kurt Hummel longs for his old life. Can he trust the cute boy who's come to set him free?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Kudos: 1





	Freak Like Me (Circus!Klaine)

**Author's Note:**

> **Original Author's Note, August 24, 2012** : So this ended up a bit angsty! But okay by the end, I promise. And read past the first few paragraphs, I explain in the story where I am going with this and it had nothing to do with any assumptions pertaining to those associated with the circus. Just wanted to put that out there. :)  
> Enjoy!  
> [Original Tumblr Link](https://hermioneclone.tumblr.com/post/30140766945/freak-like-me-circusklaine)

Kurt Hummel always regretted the day he ran away from home.

That day, so long ago, he thought it was the right decision. He knew he was different, he knew he wasn’t the son his father always wanted. It didn’t matter that it was just the two of him; his dad would be better off on his own.

Better off without a freak for a son.

Kurt had slipped out in the middle of the night, not really sure what he was planning to do, but he just had to _go._ He had a vague idea of trying to make it to New York. Instead, he decided to join the circus.

That was a big mistake.

They had told him that he could perform. That he would be a star. They had failed to mention that he would be the star of the freak show.

It wouldn’t have been a problem had the circus actually been a circus. They were perfectly reputable sources of entertainment, and Kurt had always held those who ran them in a high regard. But he happened to come across a group that in actuality was a part of the government sent to seek out people who did not conform to their hetero-normative standards and isolate them from society. Fetishize them so much that they became a laughing stock, mere creatures not worth kindness, no longer human.

He wasn’t alone. He knew that the body builder, Dave, was like him too. So were the acrobats Santana and Brittany. As was Chandler the clown. But they were all kept apart aside from their nightly shows, and all of them kept to their own misery. It was like a secret, unwritten code. As if by acknowledging their misery they would have to deal with their pain.

Kurt hadn’t cried once in the past five years, not since the night he ran away, and those tears were for his dad. He didn’t cry the day they carved the word “ **Freak** ” into his left arm, leaving a hideous scar. He felt his heart growing more brittle by day after day of trying not to feel, but it was all he had to hold on to. He refused to let his captors see how they were breaking him.

He put his everything, or at least all he had left into every performance. If that was all required of him, Kurt could have at least been nominally alright about the entire situation. But it was what happened after the show that killed him every time. Once the performance was complete, the cast was shuffled into their cages (he hadn’t had a second of privacy for five years). Then the audience was permitted to walk through, admiring them as if they were animals. The leers on the faces made Kurt shudder, almost thankful for the bars between them. Every night he would sit there, trying to look as regal as possible, glaring down all those who came to stare or throw food at him. They usually ran off without a word.

But tonight was different.

Kurt first noticed him because he was the only one without his face glued to the attractions. He glanced up at them, sure, but it almost seemed to pain him. His dark curls fell onto his forehead and his hunched shoulders. His right hand gripped his left forearm almost instinctively, protectively. The man glanced up and his eyes met Kurt’s. This time, he didn’t turn away. The man quickly made his way over to Kurt’s cage, and he braced himself. He had been wrong, of course he had been wrong.

The man stopped just short of the bars, almost close enough to reach out and touch. Kurt was a bit confused why he even wanted him to. The man’s eyes were different than the others, warm and gentle and the color of honey. There was something in his eyes that wasn’t quite pity, but it was at least kind. He smiled at Kurt softly, secretively, and Kurt couldn’t help but return the gesture. It had been so long since anyone had shown him any sort of affection. The man slipped his hand in between the bars, reaching for Kurt’s hand. He was about to say something when Sue yanked him away.

“Can’t you read the sign?” she bellowed. “No touching the freaks. You might be infected with their freakatude.” Kurt had to fight hard to stop his eyes from rolling as his heart crushed inexplicably. The man could have been planning any number of things, but for some reason, his gut told him that they were good.

The man nodded, muttering his apologies. He cast one last glance in Kurt’s direction, mouthing something at him before moving off, getting lost in the crowd.

_Later._

* * *

Kurt couldn’t stop thinking about the man. Every time he tried to close his eyes, all he could see was that smiling face looking up at him with kindness in his eyes. What had he even meant by later? Was he coming back? Or was he saying goodbye? Kurt didn’t know and at this point he really didn’t care because he needed to get to sleep two hours ago.

Then he heard it. A slight tap on the bars of his cage. His eyes popped open, and there he was, standing by the door, smiling at him again. Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but the man held up a finger to his lips to silence him. His hands flew to the lock on the door, tools jiggling in the key hole until it opened with a little click. Kurt’s eyes grew wide at the realization of what the man was doing. His heart pounded wildly in fear and excitement. The man slowly opened the door and held out a hand, just standing there.

Kurt didn’t need to think twice before taking it. It had been so long since he hadn’t bee trapped in a cage or with a chain around his neck.

It had been so long since he had been free.

He glanced around, convinced that they would be stopped. But the night was still and the man gave his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Silently, they snuck out of the circus grounds (it didn’t deserve the name). The man stopped by a small car, opening the passenger side door open for Kurt. A brief memory flashed through his head about not getting into a car with a stranger, but that couldn’t nearly be as horrible as the thought of going back into the lion’s den so to speak. He slipped into the car, playing with his hands nervously as the man took his place behind the wheel and drove quickly away.

Kurt wanted to say something, even a simple thank you, but the air was almost suffocatingly silent. His rescuer didn’t seem too keen on making conversation, so Kurt contented himself with staring out the window. Soon the blurring shadows and his exhaustion overtook him until his head drooped onto his shoulder. He didn’t even notice he had fallen asleep until he started awake once realizing the care was stopped. He looked frantically at the man in the driver’s seat, who was calmly unbuckling his seat belt and grinning at him. “Morning, sleepyhead. We’re home.”

The word stirred something in Kurt’s chest, but he shoved it down out of habit. He followed the man out of the car and into the house. The man led him over to the couch. “Sit,”

Kurt obeyed, but looked at him firmly, determined to finally speak. “Why are you doing all this? You don’t know me, you don’t even know my name.”

The man’s eyes twinkled. “Wait, so you mean your name isn’t actually Porcelain?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, feeling a warmth swell up in him that he had never felt before. “It’s Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

The man smiled sincerely. “Blaine Anderson.”

“Well, Blaine Anderson. You didn’t answer my question. Why are you helping me?”

Blaine looked at him sadly. “Because you and me, Kurt, we’re not that different.” He folded back the sleeve of his left arm, holding it out for Kurt to examine. He had to bite back a gasp; that would be rude. Etched into his skin were the same letters on Kurt’s own arm. **Freak**. Kurt looked up at him flabbergasted.

“You too…?”

Blaine nodded. “Yeah. My parents didn’t want me anymore after they found out, so they sold me to that place. I don’t even know how they knew about it. I ran, Kurt. I couldn’t take it anymore…how long were you there?”

Kurt swallowed. “Five years.”

Blaine swore. “How did you manage that? I barely made it six months before I escaped.”

Kurt shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess…I felt I had nowhere to run to.”

Blaine smiled at him wryly. “I didn’t either. Did your parents…?”

Kurt shook his head. “I ran away. And it’s just my dad.” He stared at his hands. “I just didn’t want to see him look ashamed of me.” He could feel the tears prickling at his eyes, and he tried hard to fight them back. But when Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder, Kurt felt the vice around his heart shatter. Years worth of pain came flooding out through his tear ducts, shaking him violently. Kurt was vaguely aware of Blaine wrapping his arms around him, muttering soothing words into his scalp.

“You’re safe, Kurt, you’re free. You’re not going back there, I promise.”

He hated how pathetic he felt in that moment, but it was all he could do to hold on, not really sure how to deal with emotions after so long of shutting them away. All he knew was that Blaine was strong and warm and holding him and for the first time in forever he did actually feel safe. Kurt cried until he didn’t have any more tears and then he kept on crying. Eventually Blaine lifted him up off the couch (had he really lost that much weight or was Blaine just abnormally strong?) and carried him up the stairs and into the bedroom. He tucked Kurt under the blanket tenderly. “Try to get some sleep, Kurt,” he whispered. “You’ll feel better in the morning. I promise.”

Kurt nodded shakily, too drained to argue. “Stay?”

Blaine smiled. “Of course.” Blaine quickly changed and soon was snuggling up next to Kurt, holding him tight once more. Kurt had forgotten how nice it felt to be held. It felt safe.

It felt like home.

His heart ached for his father, finally feeling the pain he had banished for so many years. He turned, burying his face in Blaine’s shoulder. “I want to go home,”

Blaine stroked his hair soothingly. “Sleep first.”

Kurt nodded, his brain already switching off for the night. “Thank you,” he mumbled before letting himself finally succumb to the slumber.

* * *

Kurt didn’t know why he was so nervous.

Everything looked the same as the day he left. It was almost creepy. He reached over to Blaine, taking his hand, knowing it would be there. He glanced in through a window as they made their way to the door. His heart froze. His dad was there, a little older, a little grayer (at least, what little hair he had left), sipping a beer while watching a game. But he wasn’t alone. That should have made Kurt feel better, to know that his dad hadn’t been alone after he ran, but somehow seeing Finn Hudson sitting next to him felt like a punch in the stomach.

He had been replaced. He didn’t know if this was better or worse that the disappointed face he had dreaded seeing. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t knock on that door.

Blaine squeezed his hand. “Yes, you can,” he whispered softly, reassuringly. Kurt inhaled deeply, taking a deep breath and taking the final steps toward the front door. He held up his hand and knocked, shave and a haircut, two bits style the way his dad always did when they went trick or treating when he was little. He couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll get it,” he heard his father call from inside, his voice gruff but oh so familiar. Tears were already prickling at his eyes, but he had to hold it together. The door swung open revealing Burt Hummel. He looked like he had been about to say something, but whatever it was had frozen on his lips. His eyes were wide and he stood still as he looked at his son. “Kurt?” he whispered, as if he didn’t believe it.

Kurt smiled weakly. “Hi, Dad.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t to be pulled into a bone-crushing hug. “Kurt,” his father mumbled, pulling him closer. “Kurt, it’s really you?” He pulled back a little to examine his son a bit more closely.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Burt nodded, a tear or two tickling out of the corner of his eye. Kurt could feel his own face already growing wet. “I missed you so much, kiddo.” He cupped Kurt’s face in his hands. “Why did you run away? I spent years looking for you…I just wanted to tell you it was okay to come home.”

Kurt shut his eyes, unable to face this even after so long. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me,” he managed to choke out.

Burt frowned. “I could never be ashamed of you, Kurt.”

Kurt pulled up his sleeve, showing his arm to his father, who sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. “Not even because of this?”

Burt nodded. “Not even because of that.” He pulled Kurt into another hug. “I love you no matter what, Kiddo. I…I wish you knew that.”

Kurt sniffed loudly, thinking of all the pain that could have been avoided. “Me too.”

Burt finally let Kurt go. He nodded towards Blaine, who had stayed back during the entire exchange to give them some privacy. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Kurt nearly choked on air. “No, no, just a friend. A new friend.”

Burt walked over to Blaine. “Burt Hummel, nice to meet you…?”

“Blaine, Blaine Anderson.”

Burt nodded. “Any friend of Kurt is welcome here, anytime. Come on in, you two, I have some people I’d like you to meet.” Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt’s as they followed Burt into the living room, where a woman sat next to Finn. She looked vaguely familiar. “Kurt, Blaine, this is Finn and Carole. I…” he swallowed nervously, looking at Kurt hesitantly. “We got married three years ago.

Kurt nodded, knowing that he couldn’t say anything. Wishing that he had been there, knowing that he should have been. Instead he just walked over, nodding politely at Finn and smiling at Carole. She stood and pulled him into a hug as tight as his father’s. It was almost overwhelming how many hugs he had received in the past twenty-four hours. "It’s so good to finally meet you, sweetie.”

Kurt hugged her back just as tight. “Thank you for being here for my dad when I…when I couldn’t be.”

“Hey!” Finn called out, pointing at the television. “The circus is in town! We should totally go!”

Kurt and Blaine exchanged knowing glances. “I think we’ll pass.”


End file.
